I bowed to them both, and passed slowly down the wide stairway, several couples rising as I drew near to permit of my passage. The intense excitement of the strange adventure had by this time become a positive delight. My cheek flushed, my eyes kindled as though new blood flowed in my veins.
“Ah!” I thought to myself proudly, “what a story it will all make for the camp-fire, and if I reach Lee in time the tale of this night will be upon the lips of all the army.”
The lower hall was very comfortably filled with figures moving here and there in converse, or occupying seats pressed close against the walls. The greater portion were attired in uniforms of the various branches of service, yet I observed not a few civilian suits, and a considerable number of women, some wearing the neat dress of the army nurse, others much more elaborately attired—daughters of the neighborhood, probably, with a sprinkling of wives and sisters of the soldiery. Guards, leaning upon their muskets, stood in statuesque poses on either side of the main entrance, while the wide archway, draped with flags, opening into the ballroom, revealed an inspiring glimpse of swiftly revolving figures in gay uniforms and flashing skirts. Over all floated the low, swinging music of the band.
All this I noted as I paused irresolutely on the lower stair, wondering if I could safely walk directly out of that front door, ignoring the sentries by right of the uniform I wore, and thus attain the open air. The constant haunting fear of the early return of Sheridan and his aides, or a possible encounter with some former acquaintance in that crushing throng, almost decided me upon venturing the passage. But already I had hesitated too long. A fat, good-natured-looking man of forty, an infantry major, but wearing staff decorations, and evidently officiating in the capacity of floor-manager, after whispering a word in the ear of another of the same kind beside the ballroom door, hastily pushed his way through the laughing throng directly toward me.
“Good-evening, Colonel,” he said, bowing deeply. “Your face is not familiar to me, but you will permit me to introduce myself—Major Monsoon, of General Sheridan's staff.”
I accepted the fat, shapeless hand he extended, and pressed it warmly.
“I was just meditating a retreat, Major, when you appeared,” I replied frankly. “For I fear my face is equally unknown to all others present. Indeed, I feel like a cat in a strange garret, and hesitated to appear at all. My only excuse for doing so was a promise made Colonel Culbertson previous to his being ordered out on duty. I am Colonel Curran, of the Sixth Ohio, but at present serving on the staff of General Halleck at Washington.”
The Major's round, red face glowed with welcome.
“Extremely pleased to meet you, indeed,” he exclaimed eagerly, “and you may be sure of a most cordial greeting. Will you kindly step this way?”
As we slowly elbowed our way forward, all desire to escape from the ordeal fled, and I assumed the risks of the masquerade with the reckless audacity of my years. Before we reached the ballroom my conductor, his fat countenance fairly beaming with cordiality, had stopped at least twenty times to present me to various military titles, and I had accepted innumerable invitations without in the least knowing who gave them, or where they were to be fulfilled. Finally, however, we broke through the massed ring, and succeeded in reaching the tall individual in spectacles to whom the Major had spoken previous to seeking me, and I learned through the introduction which followed that I was in the presence of Brigadier-General Carlton, chief of staff.